A 


TRIBUTE 


TO 


MAJOR SIDNEY WILLARD, 


DELIVERED IN THE WEST CHURCH, 


December 21, Forefathf.rs' Day. 


' 


4 


- 






THE NATION'S HOUR 



A 



TRIBUTE 



TO 



MAJOR SIDNEY WILLAED, 



DELIVERED IN THE WEST CHURCH, 



December 21, Forefathers' Day. 



BY C. A. BARTOL. 



BOSTON; 
WALKER, WISE, AND COMPANY, 

2^, Washington Street. 

1862. 



(VIm' 



.5 



ttl505 



BOSTON: 

PRINTED BY JOHN WILSON AND SON, 

5, Water Street. 



THE NATION'S HOUE. 



.. ■ ■ » 



" The hour is come." — John xvii. 1. 



We have all some time felt like saying so. The smooth 
earth runs up roughly into mountains and down into 
gulfs, that produce the Avhole circulation of its life. 
So our human habit is broken with critical hours, on 
our behavior in which hangs the destiny of our being. 
The grave George Washington, in a particular battle, 
was exalted above himself by the interests at stake, 
and moved like the Archangel Michael in the scene. 
Such is everybody's experience. The man at the 
wheel, when the vessel winds through dangerous 
straits or grazes by sunken rocks on a lee shore, is 
more asth with the stimulus of hope and fear, touching 
his mind and whitening in his face, than in any ordi- 
nary navigation. An assault of temptation, when our 
character trembles in the scale ; a trial at some bar of 
judgment, where our honor is involved ; a wrench in 
our ties of love, causing mental agony ; a paroxysm 
of disease, threatening an exchange of worlds, — 



brings us to such a peculiar hoiu', by exciting, beyond 
the usual routine and * monotony of existence, our 
faculties and affections to whatever effort or ecstasy 
they can reach. It is vain to say one moment is just 
like another, and of equal rate. So in itself it is, but 
not to us. The moment when you are betrothed or 
wedded, or a child, perhaps the fost, is born to you, 
or a friend leaves you or dies, or victory crowns or 
defeat puts back the cause you hold dear, marks the 
almanac, pricks the circle of the sun, and is printed in 
your heart. Even Jesus, the wonderfully calm one, in 
the bosom of the Father, and in full vision of all that 
time or eternity could bring, had an hour on which all 
for him turned. It was an hour of agony. He fore- 
saw it : far in the distance, like a cloud, it rose. He 
asks whether he should pray, " Save me from this 
hour." He answers, " But for this cause came I unto 
this hour." When, at last, it was at hand, he went 
down the valley betwixt Jerusalem and the Mount of 
Olives, crossed the brook Kedron, entered the garden 
of Gethsemane, prayed " one hour " of bloody sweat in 
preparation for his cross, and, with its shadow falling 
on him darker than the overhangmg night, declared 
the hour of his gloom to be the hour of his glory. 

What is the hour to which we have come ? It is 
the Nation's hour, and yours and mine only as we 
make it hers in the period of her trial, and decision of 
her fate. A nation's hour is not measured by one 



revolution of the hand on a clock, or by an inch of 
shadow on the dial. It is a long hour that has ar- 
rived for this country. It has taken in two summers, 
and is in the second winter now. The hour, weighty 
to determine the future condition of our posterity 
and this hemisphere of the globe, has come, but has 
not gone : we are in the midst of it. Our conduct, 
like that of Jesus, has much to do in determining its 
character and import ; and God is using our action, 
with that of our rulers, the citizens, leaders, soldiers, 
of the land, as elements in the great result to come. 
Let us offer all we are or have of thought or word, 
deed or sacrificial blood, that can be instrumental to a 
right issue for the common welfare. 

But, as the worth of the hour depends on the posi- 
tion and prospects of those to whom it belongs, what 
is the nation here whose hour has come? Nations 
are of many kmds ; the American nation unlike any 
other. No nation can we recognize as satisfying our 
idea, or fulfilling the providential design, but that 
whose seed our fathers planted. As the hour of Jesus 
was at midnight, so how thehs was at the very mid- 
night of the year ! What an hour for themselves and 
humanity, when they forsook the comfort, art, and re- 
finement of an ancient home, at the call of God, 
making the little " Mayflower " another ark, to pre- 
serve, not animal life or earthly treasure, but the 
convictions of their breasts ! What does this twenty- 



first of December, this fresh anniversary of their 
landing, charge us, but to remember the civil and 
religious freedom, the Christian order and law, the 
equal rights of men, for whose assertion they came? 
It was one of the world's critical hours when that for- 
lorn hundred of persecuted Puritans took their wintry 
voyage for some region in the Western wild, where 
their principles might not be dug up and destroyed by 
sharp tools of the tyranny of Church and State as soon 
as they were set out, but spiritual worship, and a pure 
reign of God on earth, rise, thrive, and flourish for 
human good. 

Why do I say it is the nation contemplated by that 
little band, who, as one said, were sifted as wheat from 
three kmgdoms, for the culture of a better race, which 
is now in question, and whose hour of doom or deli- 
very has come ? Because only from them did the new 
style of nation, distinguished from European aristo- 
cracy and despotism, to blossom m our Declaration of 
Independence, take root. Their eyes were not the 
only ones eagerly fixed on this balance of the planet 
toward the setting sun. Many besides them sailed 
across the sea — Dutch, Spaniards, Portuguese, 
French, English — on other errands, inspired with 
the longing for material riches and political sway; 
taking possession of large areas from Newfoundland 
to Cape Horn, with the putting-up of crosses and 
coats of arms, cutting of kings' names on trees, wav- 



ing of banners and giving of titles ; seeking mostly the 
milder climes; ravaging the interior with fire and 
sword against the aboriginal populations, or cruising 
in ships after each other ui the Mexican GiMf or 
among the swarm of neighboring islands, to pick 
piratical quarrel, and rob each other of gold ; gam 
and empu-e the motives that sped a thousand keels 
and arrayed successive hosts in arms. The Pilgrims' 
mission was to sow the continent with liberty, justice, * 
and obedience to God. They had no other intent. 
They objected not to the cold and ragged territory to 
which the winds and waves had borne them, if they 
could graft its growth with their holy persuasions of 
what was due to their Maker and mankmd. They 
were willing to commit their handfuls of grain to sandy 
furrows, half released from snow and ice, for a scanty 
crop, foregoing all harvests of plenty and luxury, if a 
commonwealth of manly virtue and godly devotion 
could but spring in the desert of their refuge. They 
alone socially succeeded in rearing such a government 
on these shores. They themselves, in their life and 
death, were the sowing and the seed of truth, first 
and only broadcast in these vast latitudes. Though 
exceptional persons not of then* company, like Wil- 
liam Penn, proposed humane objects this side the 
water, the Pilgrims alone carried them out, and raised 
them up toward heaven in lasting spread and strength. 
Imperfect as, in the weakness of human nature, igno- 



ranee of the age, or necessities of civil fellowship, 
their toleration became, diiven into savage warfare as 
they unavoidably were, they, and none else, vindicat- 
ed the view of a nation for ends of divine glory and 
human safety above what had before been created or 
conceived ; and the Revolutionary struggle, which 
separated their descendants, with the associate Colo- 
nies, from the British Crown, befell by reason of their 
faith, heroism, and suffering, as fruit drops ripe from 
the bough. • 

Now, for the nation they projected and began to 
build, the hour has come ; the hour to decide whether 
it shall perish, give place to tribes of a meaner type, 
against that hope of our fathers, for which we, hke 
Paul, stand and are judged this day, or whether it shall 
survive and be glorified. In the old fable, the life of 
the Greek hero hung on the alternative of his stran- 
gling the serpents sent to his cradle, or the serpents' 
strangling him. The mfancy of this nation was beset 
by the monster whose venomous and wily strength has 
not yet been overcome. Four months before the 
colony began at Plymouth, a Dutch man-of-war en- 
tered that very James Piver, since so famous, with 
twenty negroes for sale. Nay, in the preceding cen- 
tury, on the track of the naval explorer, Hawkins, 
followed a series of adventurers straight from England 
to the Canaries, and thence to the coast of Africa, to 
hunt down the natives, fill their ships with cargoes of 



9 

wretched slaves, and force them on the West-India 
planters for whatever price they chose to give. The 
bondage of man to man has been a native production 
of some soils. The Occidental curse of slavery was 
not indigenous, but introduced fii-st by cruelty from 
that very land which now chooses to forget its respon- 
sibility for the exotic it bore hither, and, with a horrid 
consistency to its early work, gives its sympathy still 
to slaveholding against liberty, in our struggle for life. 
Does it wish to have the serpent prevail, and the free 
manhood, that might threaten its own arbitrarmess, 
poisoned and crushed? Has it a secret hope, that the 
bloody thorn, so deep in the side of this Republic, will 
not be plucked out, but torment us to our grave? 
"Would it see us laid out in our shroud? Opposition 
in such a quarter shows us at least the dreadful 
strength of the evil with which we are summoned, m 
a death-hug, to close. 

Quietly and justly of this matter may I speak, and 
will you hear ? Human slavery is not the fault alone 
or peculiarly of this age or comitry, of the self-willed 
South or the compromising North. It is the sin of 
civilization. From Egypt and Greece, Judaea and 
Rome, to America, it has stretched. The Old World 
has been full of it. England and France have had 
their hands deep in it, and cannot lift their fingers into 
the light of history without showing ruddy stains, which 

all the waters of the sea cannot wash off. Russia grap- 

2 



10 

pies with it now through her immense domain. What 
is the natm'e of the sin 1 It is treating our fellow-men 
as thmgs, usmg them as our tools. Only they who 
never do this are clean. Are we, brethren and sisters, 
all of us, even those most loud for liberty and justice, 
quite clean of it ourselves ? Alas ! how we respect the 
persons of men more than then* personality, the out- 
ward appearance and advantage beyond the soul, 
wealth rather than worth ! Are we aware that this, 
too, is the sin of slavery ? This sin comes to a head in 
that part of these United States where men, women, 
and children — little children blameless as those you 
bear and nurse — are bought and sold, and bred for the 
buyer and seller ; the most holy bonds of relationship 
broken ; so that, as a surgeon from this church in 
North Carolina lately told me, in his observation, chas- 
tity seemed hardly to exist or be known as a virtue 
toward or among the colored folk ; — husbands and 
wives, brothers and sisters, m ties like your own, — O 
sacred name of humanity ! — parted as so many lots of 
merchandise, advertised in the newspapers as goods, 
put up at auction hke wares in your commission-stores, 
sent south in gangs or coffles like so much avoirdu- 
pois load m a freight-car, and forced asunder at the 
owner's death for the necessary legal division of pro- 
perty, — a chcumstance, the unavoidableness of which, 
a noble Virginian woman, who had emancipated her 
slaves, assured me, sufficed in her mind to condemn the 



11 

whole system ; — and worse, if worse can be, men de- 
livering over to the barterer, for a consideration, what 
is part of their own flesh and blood. More than the 
bleak climate, more than the strange heretic, more 
than the savage with his glittering tomahawk, did the 
germination of a system, mvolving all these things, 
menace the governmental fabric which the Pilgrims 
proposed ; and it is on the claim imperionsly made for 
its milimited territorial extension and perpetuation, 
contrary alike to the heart of our fathers and the 
scheme of the framers of our Constitution, that the 
present conflict is waged. 

Other accounts, I know, are given of the origm of 
the strife. One man says it was provoked, not by 
slavery or any of its pretensions, but purely by anti- 
slavery fanaticism ; a second says that he can count on 
his fuigers the names of the poHticians whose ambition 
brought it on; and a third, that it arose with the 
formation of a sectional party at the North. Mr. Cal- 
houn anticipated it with any distm-bance of the exact 
equipoise of Slavery and Freedom, singular things as 
they are to weigh so nicely together. Many have 
fondly hoped, that, though vital opposites, these two 
could He coiled up closely m one constitution for all 
time, and not fall out. Desperate efforts, terrible sac- 
rifices, have been made to reconcile them ; nor will I 
brand the patience and labor expended to keep them 
from deadly grip as all so much iniquity and folly. 



12 

although finally provmg so utterly vain. Heaven did 
not mean that they should be so united, and for ever 
agree. Heaven ordamed thek' mutual claims to be 
resolved here, front to front. Does antislavery vex 
you ? It was born of slavery ; could not help existing 
more than any other effect, — offspring of a parent, 
oxygen of the ak, or conscience of man. Explain as 
we will the symptoms or proximate cause of our 
trouble, it is no accident, but written in the book 
above, with a pen furnished to the divine hand by the 
institution itself, aiming at unbounded predominance, 
before the holding of the Charleston Convention or 
firing of the Sumter gun. Why that outbreak ] The 
hour had come ! The impossibility of postponing the 
issue — which should govern. Slavery or Freedom — 
opened this war ; and, maintained for Freedom, God's 
war and man's war it is, to prevent the laymg of 
Slavery for the corner-stone it is afiirmed to be, but 
rotten timber it is, in the edifice of good government. 
To settle this question of foundations, — on the long, 
indecisive duel of argument, has followed the shock 
of arms. 

" Now's the day, and now's the hour : 
See the front of battle lower ! " 

The abolition of the slavery which is its cause is 
not its object, but will be its effect ; else we have no 
sufficient recompense for its pangs. Its direct object is 
the existence and authority of the nation, whose hour 



13 

has verily come. For that, we have accepted the ordeal 
by battle to which we were forced. "It is expedient 
that one man should die for the people, and that 
the whole nation perish not," said Caiaphas the high- 
priest concerning Jesus. He spake not of himself, but 
" prophesied," or spake from God, the evangelist adds. 
Is it not better that a hundred thousand men should 
die than that this nation should perish 1 My friends, I 
am not fond of blood ! Word has repeatedly come to 
me, that I should not speak as I do on this subject if 
I had sons ; but God, Avho enables me to speak as I 
think, forgive me, if the having sons would rob me of 
my sincerity ! Has the gift of sons, or their expu'ing 
on the field, hmdered some of you from speech as 
strong, and testimony, before and since their departure, 
more convincing, than I have ever used ? Nay, some 
of your sons, who have so breathed their last on earth, 
have I not loved as my own 1 Are you bereaved of 
them 1 I am bereft ; we are all bereft. What pillars, 
had their lives been spared, they would have been of 
this church ! But this church, so domestic, this quiet 
family of ours, always shrinking from public notice, 
in the hand of providence, as they are torn away, is 
held up before the community, bleeding at every pore. 
Yet, if this nation shaU be preserved in part by our 
contribution, liberty and union won and made perfect, 
neither you nor I, nor yet the church, will lament our 
offering, but feel with thanksgiving, that, precious as 



14 

were the victims the great crime has exacted, we have 
yet suppHed the full price of blood. So other church- 
es, of every name, sharing our sacrifices, will confess. 
All Christian denominations, mmgling vital drops from 
the veins of their members, should be cemented in a 
faith and charity and patriotic zeal, from which diifer- 
ences of theological speculation should fall like the 
withs of Samson, sundered as a thread of tow when 
it toucheth the fire. 

But while each household or assembly of prayer 
will commemorate its own dead, commending their 
spkits to God, you know the occasion for natiu-al grief 
and sphitual transport in enrolling on the long list 
now of our heroes and martyrs another spotless name. 
Major Sidney Willard, acting Colonel of the Thirty- 
fifth Regiment of Massachusetts Volunteers, commis- 
sioned first as captain of a company, which he raised 
in two days, instead of the eight allowed, so great 
was the confidence in him, — thus rising with a 
rarely rapid promotion, — was born in Lancaster, in 
this State, on Feb. 3, 1831 ; fitted for coUege at 
the Boston Latin Grammar School ; graduated at Har- 
vard in 1852 ; entered in due course upon the 
practice of the law in Boston ; and in August last, — 
the next day after his marriage on the 21st, — at the 
simple dictate, in his own soul, of duty to his native 
land and mankind, from his happy home, from his 
professional business, from his dear and devoted wife, 



15 



from all the promises of his chosen career, he pro- 
ceeded to the theatre of action, because, to use his 
own words, the time for Mm had come. For him to go 
at all, seemed, to all but himself, almost a superfluity 
of devotion, as, being an admirable tactician, he had 
already done ten times his part, in traimng eight hun- 
dred men, from Boston to Cambridge, Weston, Wren- 
tham, Waltham, and Way land ; and instructed twenty 
officers for the camp and the fi.eld. But he said he 
could no longer look his men in the face here : so, 
with little taste, though great talent, for the actual 
campaign, loathing contention, drawn by nothing but 
a moral inspiration for the cause of liberty and right, 
he turned his back on comfort, bade his friends and 
beautiful prospects farewell, faced the fierce struggle 
of the day, uniformly, amid all military exposure and 
hardship, kept up to the highest standard of human 
behavior, with a sleepless, simple feeling of what he 
ought to do, till he fell, Dec. 13, in the attack on 
Fredericksburg, and expired the following day, after 
lingermg about twenty -four hours, — his hour having 
indeed come ; his hour to die ; his hour to be trans- 
lated and glorified ; his hour, this body of death we 
still wear dropping from him, to have nothing but life 
remain. I am sorry with a personal grief to miss 
him. I am glad to speak of him, — him of whom all, 
who speak truly, must speak well. What shall I say? 
I will say, he was a good son, a good brother, — there 



16 

is one to say, a good husband too, brief as was that 
earthly tie, — a good soldier, a good Christian, a good 
man. I will say, he was without reproach of any 
obliquity or impurity from his childhood to his grave. 
I will say, he was born into the Church, nurtured in a 
religious faith, an honor and joy throughout his course, 
from the day of his bhth, to his believing parents, to 
all his kindred, acquamtances, associates, and friends. 
I hold him up, without hesitation, as a model of com- 
pleteness, to young men. Probably no man, in all the 
huge multitude that has gone forth, had a more har- 
moniously developed body and soul ; yet he was, from 
the ikst, of a sensitive, shrinking nature, with a hum- 
ble estimate of himself. His mtellectual unfolding 
was slow, but lasting and strong. He achieved no 
remarkable distinction in college, and had few, if any, 
intimacies ; but, through all his modesty, his spiritual 
qualities beamed, and were fully appreciated by his 
class. Though no cynic, he was free from the small- 
est tendency to dissipation, was disgusted at the very 
thought of it, and never once entered into a festive 
entertainment. When a Freshman, being m a com- 
pany where some indecent language, too common 
among young men, was used, he denounced the utter- 
ance, rose, and left the room, though the room was 
actually his own ! Yet, to those who had wandered, 
he was a lenient judge. Walking, as he always did, 
to Cambridge, — not riding to or fro in a single in- 



17 

stance, — on one occasion he came up with a student, 
who, having yielded to the cup, had fallen by the way- 
side, took him on his broad shoulders, and, notwith- 
standing all the rude and angry resistance of his blind 
burthen, carried him safely to the college-grounds. 
Of his exceeding kindness of heart, I, as doubtless 
many, from personal experience, were it proper here, 
could furnish details, showing how ready, from amid 
absorbing engagements, he was to give, gratuitously, 
important counsel, and spend hour after hour in 
others' service. 

He was not only inwardly disposed, but made him- 
self physically able, to do all manner of good. As 
early as his tenth year, he began to frequent the gym- 
nasium for exercise, which he persevered to take in 
the open air ; economizing his leisure to scour every 
road and path in the region, till he could walk fifty- 
five miles in a day ; making, meantime, the keen 
observations, to which, by a peculiar love of nature, he 
was impelled. He was at home on the water as on 
the land, and published m the "Atlantic Monthly" an 
account of a " Night in a Wherry," — I know not 
whether more extraordinary for the fearless exposure 
it portrays, or his equal skill with the oar and the 
pen. His private letters are remarkable for a deep 
, transparency of natural feeling, through which shine 
the solid principle and conscientious delicacy of exqui- 
site color, by all his diversity of accomplishment only 



18 

adorned. Those letters bear abundant evidence, in 
pen-and-ink sketches of tents, military positions and 
evolutions, with other objects, of the faculty for draAv- 
ing, which, too, he possessed and had cultivated. He 
was a lover of music ; and, though his aptitude for 
it was not marked, he resolved to master the elements, 
and succeeded so that he could execute scientifically 
on the piano the choice tunes which alone he was 
wilhng to play. In college, he dishked the mathe- 
matics ; but, after his graduation, his circumstances 
requiring him to keep school, he went to Charlestown, 
N.H., and, bemg put in charge of a set of bright 
pupils more accomphshed in figures than himself, by 
study, early and late, he came to distance them, as 
their teacher kept steadily m advance, and ever after- 
wards showed a fondness for this department of know- 
ledge, and a special ability for lucid description of 
machinery, and exposition of the laws of forces, in 
beautiful speech. In the ten years after his leaving 
the university, his information widened on all matters 
into a surprising variety, accuracy, and extent. He 
gained gradually, but never lost. In history, general 
literatiu'e, and the Greek language, he was an accom- 
plished scholar ; and seemed to inherit the taste of his 
grandfather, the honored President of Harvard Uni- 
versity. Under his sober mien was hidden a wit too, 
a perception of the ludicrous and quiet humor, so un- 
obtrusive and kept in the background, that few but 
those nearest him would suspect its existence. 



19 

His moral habits, however, were his charm and 
crown. He was inured to self-sacrifice. A Christian 
soldier, he bore the cross with the sword. In frame a 
giant, he was m gentleness a child. I was often 
struck with the mild voice from that ample chest, the 
sweet look in those powerful features, the soft plant- 
ing of that vigorous step ; and all who looked on him 
must have observed the nobility of expression that stood 
not in contrast, but correspondence with that lofty sta- 
ture. His self-control was no natural gift, but a "\drtue 
resolutely acquu-ed over a temper threatening at the 
outset to be impetuous and warm. Those who knew 
him best cannot recall a deviation from the strictest in- 
tegrity, a failure from the highest generosity, or a taint 
on his entire sanctity. Into his complete manhood he 
confided, let me tell you, children, as a child hi his 
parents; and his parents had occasion only to trust 
him. All domestic affection in him was most lively 
and strong. A cherished member, as he was, of this 
church, I call gratefully to mind the emphatic appro- 
bation, which, from his large soul, he gave to its open 
communion. He was an earnest antislavery man. 
Slavery was abhorrent to every sentiment of his nature ; 
and his ashes would reprove me if I had not chosen 
to-day a theme consonant with his convictions. Has 
not he, whose body lay lifeless and cold yesterday at 
this altar, a right, out of his silence, to speak in my 
voice ? 



20 

Such was the person whose life has just ended in the 
late rebel snare for our slaughter, not war, at Frede- 
ricksburg. At the southerly side of the town, on an 
extended plateau, at the end of which rose the side 
of a slopmg hill, — on whose crest stood the first line of 
the rebel batteries, and their infantry in rifle-pits be- 
low, — he, marching on foot in front of the advancing 
regimental Ime, without badge of distinction, waved 
his sword, and called his men. "Come on, boys! 
remember South Mountain and Antietam ! " in which 
battles, bemg on duty elsewhere, he had not been per- 
sonally engaged. Half over the plain, a Mmie-ball 
struck the steel vest he had on as a token from Col. 
"Wild, — and would not have worn of his owii accord, 
previously in a skirmish havmg carried it on his sad- 
dle, — became flattened, glanced off", and entered the 
groin. He fell on his face, soon turned slowly over, 
said, "My God, I am shot!" was taken at once, by 
friendly hands that would not leave him, to the rear, 
and thence to the hospital, where he died the 14:th of 
December, the first day of the week, the day of the 
resurrection, of worship and prayer, soon after our 
last Smiday-morning gathering here was dispersed. 
Lieut.-Col. Pratt writes, " He died calm and easy, like 
a person gomg to sleep ; and was sensible to the last. 
He was a brave, noble man, and a good commander ; 
and his loss to the regiment, I fear, will never be 
filled. God grant that we may all be as well prepared 



21 

as he was to lay down his life for his country ! " God 
grant, let us add, that a sacrifice so spotless and so 
great may be sanctified to that salvation of the country 
it was made for, and which will reconcile to it those 
dear to him ; that we may be willing to pay the cost 
for which the Most High yet holds out his hand ; that 
our hope and faith and courageous zeal may never 
fail, precious and unblemished as may be the selections 
from the flock demanded for the atonement of our sin, 
or however long our trial may last, before He, who 
suspends all human fortunes on the beam of his justice, 
and receives to heavenly recompense the souls of the 
faithful, shall decree our national redemption and re- 
lease ! His ordermg will be right and sure. There is 
no chance bullet to him, and no pure error. Every 
drop of blood, even in what seems, humanly consi- 
dered, such carnage to no end as that on the Rappa- 
hannock, though spilt as water on the ground, he 
shall gather up, and make precious, till the sum is 
full and our ransom is bought. 

But we have obligations ; and they are conditions, 
appointed terms, of our deliverance. From Him, that 
sat of old as a refiner to purify the sons of Levi, the 
hour to try this people, and each individual soul's loy- 
alty to the whole, has come. I feel a solemn joy, 
that, as a body, we have nbt been wanting to the time. 
Many of you have paid tribute unspeakably dear. 
You have not kept back your own flesh and blood, 



22 

when it was part of the price of the land. With some, 
not of our number, the query has arisen, whether the 
youth of this society have not been phed with too 
much urgency, and spurred in over-hasty numbers, to 
the pubhc service. But, express regret who will, as 
at an excess of our zeal, from you, who have made 
offerings to country, liberty, and God, I have heard 
no regret. You, who have laid your sons on a nobler 
altar than Abraham built, have not asked to take them 
back. You, for whom the knell has struck, whose chil- 
dren are dead, or have been woimded, or are still ex- 
posed, would not withdraw them. Your horn* of agony 
has come : thehs, perhaps, has gone. But, in what- 
ever pain or grief, you know that you not only give 
them : they go themselves to the shrine of patriotic 
work and religious faith that is reared for them by 
the Almighty Father on the earth to-day. What re- 
mains for us all, but to live up to the value of then* 
blood, whether it still flow or have ebbed in anguish 
away, remembering God's faithfulness, remembering 
Christ's promise of triumph to those who should follow 
him m the regeneration for which he was sent, and 
remembering that now or never, far as mortal vision 
can reach, after long degeneracy to a pitch of political 
corruption, the regenerating hour for this nation has 
indeed come '? As with Jesus, may it have come for 
us, not only to suffer, but be gloiified ! 



23 



NOTE. 



As the author of the discourse has said one regretful word of the 
attack on Fredericksburg, he cannot refrain from expressing his 
admiration for the whole spirit and motive of the war, as con- 
ducted on the loyal side. The perseverance of this quiet, sober, 
and, save in healthy argument, uncontentious tribe of the North- 
erly and Westerly States, to handle the carnal weapons they are 
so unused to, which are more fit and Avarm in the hands of a 
relatively barbarous society, can be born of nothing but the right- 
eousness of their cause. Only this can explain the wondrous 
spectacle of New England, New York, Ohio, Illinois, and the rest 
of the Free States, turned from an abode of husbandmen, herds- 
men, shop-keepers, and sailors, into a blazing battery, manned 
ever anew with ranks of volunteers, — sometimes scholars, law- 
yers, merchants, ministers, farmers, — ready to take the place of 
the dead. We are not discoui-aged, and will not be. Never from 
a worthier people, for a better cause, did a nobler soldiery come ; 
needing only the leading of political wisdom and military genius 
to accomplish any success, and build up the empire of Freedom 
for all time. 

It is sometimes reproachfully said, that our defenders are less 
in earnest than the insurgents. Let me answer, that the earnest- 
ness is not on both sides the same, but different in kind. The 
earnestness of a party of travellers is not the same as that of the 
band of robbers by whom they are assailed. The earnestness 
of an inspiration does not resemble that of a conspiracy, but will 



24 



outlast and put it down. The earnestness of capital offenders 
against the Constitution and laAvs, who feel or fear their fortunes 
and heads are in danger of confiscation and the gibbet, and who 
have no alternative but rule or ruin, is not that of those who feel 
strong and superior in their position ; who are loath to strike back 
as they are malignantly smitten ; who fear to alienate those they 
would recover and reconcile ; who are weakened with tenderness 
for the neutral and wavering, and led by inclination to temper ven- 
geance itself with the mercy which traitors avail themselves of 
freely, and are so little apt to return. Besides, let us not be un- 
thankful to God, that an uncivilized, half-savage society does take 
to blows more readily, and is better at them at the outset, than 
those who have heretofore habitually aimed at distinction, not in 
duelling, street affrays, border disputes, and filibustering expedi- 
tions, but in learning and science, youthful education, gentle man- 
ners, industry of agriculture, trade, fishei'ies, factories, and the 
mechanic arts. These are the things to which our heart and 
strength have gone. Many incidents could be related, showing 
the gentle and peaceful temper in which we maintain the conflict. 
A noble "Western mother writes to me, "My army-boy is of a 
tender heart, and shooting people goes hard with him. He has 
carried his knapsack eighteen months, and it has made my back 
lame." Yet, though it is the wrath of the lamb against the tiger, 
let us still remember the sentence of Revelation, that the wrath of 
the Lamb shall prevail, and the mighty call on the mountains and 
rocks to fall on them, and hide them from it. Therefore let no 
sentiments be possible to us in this contest but of good cheer and 
faith. Let us fear nothing but drifting away from the principles 
the Pilgrims brought, and for which they and their children bled. 
Let us live in vision and inspiration from a hope of what this Na- 
tion, in a fresh fidelity to them, may become. Let us labor and 
suffer together for her sake, knowing that we share a common 
fortune ; that the hour of one is the hour of all ; the interest of 
one, the interest of all ; the duty of one, the duty of all ; and the 
emancipation of each one, only in the emancipation of all. 



25 



It is not for the sake alone of our brother departed, whose me- 
morial is pure, that we bear such abundant witness respecting him, 
and the cause for which he lived and died, but in the hope of a 
public benefit among his fellow-citizens and fellow-soldiers wher- 
ever our testimony may reach. The youth especially of our com- 
munity may derive benefit from the contemplation of an example, 
itself formed on no lower aim than to unfold in entire integrity 
every power of body and soul. We learn from one of his com- 
panions at school and in college, — whose name would make his 
words everywhere of weight, — that Sidney's character was fash- 
ioned, from the first, on principles established by deliberate reflec- 
tion ; and that he did not, like most young men, allow his views to 
be determined by accident or the pattern set by those around him. 
Instead of being himself as clay to be moulded by external influ- 
ences, he adapted circumstances *to his own lofty purpose, and 
made, of all things earthly, building materials for the structure, 
somewhere still standing, after his moral design. Of his extreme 
tenderness of conscience, a token is fresh in the writer's mind. 
Some conversation having arisen respecting slavery at the South, 
I said to him, " Yet social and legal justice is not done to the 
African, even at the North ; " the mournful motion of his head, 
in assenting to which, I can never forget. At every point, his 
truthful feeling bore the test. May such be the style of the rising 
generation in our land ! So God will be with us as with our 
fathers. 



27 



APPENDIX. 



The foregoing discourse — published at the request of a 
number of gentlemen of the West Church — gives an op- 
portunity of adding some memoranda, furnished in sub- 
stance by a friend, touching the brief military career of 
Major Willard before he entered the army ; together with 
some extracts from his letters to different members of his 
family, showing his affectionate character, his spirit of 
enthusiasm, his patriotism and zeal, and his vein of quiet 
humor. 

He possessed, perhaps to an unusual degree, the capa- 
city of governing and influencing men. This became very 
manifest in the large number of men he disciplined for the 
war, — officers by the score, and privates many hundred. 
In particular may be named the "Washington Home 
Guard of Cambridge," — a corps of various ages, taken 
from the different walks of life, and including many his 
seniors, and several of the learned professions. This corps 
was formed partly for drill and discipline, and partly to 
infuse a martial spirit in the community, which would find 
its appropriate response whenever the country should call 
for their service in the field. 

At first, he was known in person to a few only of the 
Guard ; but his reputation as an accomplished instructor 



28 

had preceded him, and he was invited to take charge of 
the corps. He accepted the invitation. A cordial union 
and sympathy soon grew up between instructor and pu- 
pils, and widened and deepened day by day. He was soon 
chosen to the command, and continued with them until he 
left for the war. 

His competence for the command was unquestioned; 
and the strict discipline which he exacted was submitted 
to with pleasure, — a free tribute of respect to the man 
and officer. 

This was shown when they appeared in public, as at the 
dedication of a building for the Guard; an account of 
which was published at the time in the '^ Cambridge Chro- 
nicle." Several distinguished persons were present by 
invitation, and the hall was crowded with the ladies and 
gentlemen of Cambridge. 

After a public parade of the Guard under the command 
of Major Willard, on returning to the hall, the President of 
the Guard * called upon him to respond in behalf of his 
command. 

He spoke in a clear, earnest, and deliberate manner of 
the relations between the duties of the citizens and the 
soldiers ; of the present condition of our country, and the 
wonderful manner in which our citizens had shown their 
aptness for all the duties and requirements of good soldiers ; 
and expressed his confident belief, that, with such an army 
properly disciplined, victory and success to our arms were 

sure. 

Of the meagre report of his remarks, the following is all 
that space admits of being copied: ''He said it was some- 
times difficult to determine where liberty should end, and 



* Hon. Emory Washburn. 



29 

obedience commence. The rules which prevail among 
military men are those which the good sense of mankind 
has transmitted after ages of experience. Discipline can 
be enforced in such a manner as to be easy to all concerned, 
and to command the most cheerful obedience. There had 
been an effort in the French army to make each company 
able to support itself. Each had its baker and its cook, 
who were ready to act when circumstances required their 
services. But in no army in the world was there more 
ability to support itself than in the Sixth and Eighth Massa^ 
chusetts Regiments ; and this was shown in their passage 
through Baltimore. When sailors were wanted from the 
ranks of the volunteers, the county of Essex furnished 
them ; and the counties of Worcester and Middlesex were 
not behind-hand : they were all able to take care of 
themselves. What the soldiers of Massachusetts wanted 
was discipline ; and, with it, he thought no soldiers in 
the world excel them with their ready and cheerful obe- 
dience. 

"In our State, there were a hundred and fifty-seven 
thousand men liable to military duty. With twenty-five 
thousand of these men properly disciplined, instead of 
stopping at Washington at the opening of the Rebellion, 
they would have marched directly to Richmond." 

This was in May, 1861 ; and the united testimony of 
every competent general in our army since that time has 
fully justified the view here expressed. 

On the evening of Aug. 19, just before his departure for 
the seat of war, the Home Guard, desiring to manifest their 
personal respect for their late commander and associate by 
some sensible token, took the opportunity of the last even- 
ing when he could be present at their drill, in presence of 
the Guard and many invited friends, to present him a beau- 



30 



tiful military sash and a handsome silver pitcher, upon the 
latter of which was the following inscription ; viz. : — 



THE 

WASHINGTON HOME GUARD 

TO 

CAPT. SIDNEY WILLARD, 

CAMBRIDGE, 

Aug. 19, 1862. 



The presentation was made in a very touching manner 
by the President of the Guard, and in terms expressive of 
the warm affection and respect they entertained for him. 
Capt. Willard was sensibly moved by this very hearty 
and unexpected manifestation. He responded gracefully 
and with much feeling. It is now a subject of regret, that 
his remarks were not preserved. 

His commission as captain in the Thirty-fifth Regiment 
of Massachusetts Volunteers bears date Aug. 13 last. He 
left for the seat of war on Friday, Aug. 22 ; the regiment 
numbering a thousand and twenty-five strong, and com- 
posed largely of the stalworth yeomanry of Essex, Middle- 
sex, and Norfolk, — a thoroughly Massachusetts regiment. 
On the 27th of August, he was promoted to a majority. 



Extracts from Major Willard's Letters, 

Aug. 25— Dec. 12. 

Aug. 25, 1862, near "Washington. — ""We camped in the open 
field all night. ... It is just like camping out in the middle of 
Brighton Road when it is hottest and dustiest. I am well and 
jolly, except when I think of you all ; and then the thought that 
I am trying to do my duty is consolation ample. . . . Most truly 
your loving son." 



31 

Aug. 28, Arlington Heights. — "Our men are just getting a 
notion of loading and firing. We have had rumors of the defeat 
of Pope, Sigel, &c., but nothing authentic. We can tell literally 
nothing here about the movements of the armies. Regiments 
come and go: their tents whiten the hillside one day, and are 
gone the next. ... I hope that the Thirty-fifth will soon prove 
itself an excellent regiment." 

Sept. 2, Arlington Heights. — "I shall ever love you as I 
have done, not in very demonstrative mode perchance, but yet 
better than you think ; and, while I live, you know that you have 
some one to depend on, to help and assist you. I hope, God 
willing, after this accursed Rebellion is put down, to return to old 
Massachusetts ; and, a better and more energetic man, to make 
my way, so that I can aid in other ways than mere words." 

Sept. 3, Arlington Heights. — " Your letter and S.'s came 
safely ; and I enjoyed them most exceedingly. They brought a 
taste of home to me that was delicious amid all this noise, bustle, 

dirt, and fierce energy. . . . needs some one to help her ; 

and of whom can I ask sympathy, in such case, but you, dear 

, who have helped me and assisted me in every way ? I have 

had the appointment of Major to the regiment. . . . Pray, who, 
if any one, made representations to the Governor ? If you know, 
please let me know. The promotion is rapid enough to satisfy the 
most exacting ; and I shall try to fill the post thoroughly, and hope 
to, all but the blessed horse. My kingdom if there wasn't a 

horse ! " * 

Sept. 4, Arlington Heights. — ..." We are still in camp ; 
and are likely to remain, as far as I can judge, in the same place. 
This is our third remove, near Hunter's Chapel, on the great road 
from the end of Long Bridge to Fairfax Court House, about two 
miles from the bridge. ... We are in full view of Fort Craig, 
some little distance to the north of us, with many regiments near 
us, and the whole of Pope's army distributed along our front. We 
have heard firing, and have sent out pickets, dug rifle-pits, and 
stood guard and drilled, but have as yet not encountered any 



♦ Reasonably enough, perhaps; for, in all his life, he had never mounted a 
horse but twice, — once only riding a few rods, when a schoolboy; and a second 
time taking a short ride when in college. 



32 



enemy ; and, to judge from the snoring of the officer in the next 
tent, he, for one, hath not the fear of Johnny Rebel before his 
soul." 

Sept. 9, Brookville, Md., twenty miles north-west of Washing- 
ton. — " We have left at Arlington Heights all our baggage and 
tents, and have been turning in in the open air." 

Sept. 13, Washington. — . . . "We broke camp at Arlington 
Heights last Saturday night. . . . Every thing left at Arling- 
ton Heights, only what we could carry on our backs, besides the 
sixty rounds of ball-cartridges. Tuesday night, we were at a 
little town called Brookville, about ten miles north of Rockville ; 
and have been brigaded with the Twenty-first Massachusetts and 
two other regiments, with Col. Ferraro, a Pennsylvania man, act- 
ing brigadier, in Sturgis's division, Reno's corps, and Burnside's 
army. . . . On Wednesday morning, the colonel ordered me to 
take one of our wagons which was broketi, go to Washington, get 
it mended ; go to Arlington Heights, break up our camp there ; 
turn back to United-States Q. M. Thomas the two hundred 
and fifty tents ; collect the thousand knapsacks and the officers' 
trunks, find a place of storage in Washington ; send thirty or forty 
sick men, who were left in camp, to Alexandria ; collect the guns, 
get all the equipments, belonging to the regiment ; and bring back 
to the regiment upwards of seventy well men, with a wagon-load 
of hospital-stores, baggage, &c. ; and find the regiment, which, I 
suppose, will have moved forty miles at least from Brookville 
before I rejoin it. Besides this, I have to finish my being sworn 
in ; to procure a horse ; to fill about three hundred small commis- 
sions, which the officers, learning that I was going to camp and 
should have control of the baggage, intrusted me with ; see to the 
mail ; and, in short, clean up all that had been left loose. So I 
set out from Brookville, Wednesday, at three, p.m., and walked 
and rode into Washington; where I arrived at nine, p.m. 

" Your letters all came in a bunch ; and I had a splendid time 
reading them." 

He describes, at some length, the difficulties and delays in doing 
business at Washington. He succeeded at last in accomplishing 
the business of the regiment, purchasing a horse and a major's 
equipments, and set out for camp ; bidding adieu to some near 
and hospitable relatives, who had given him the most cordial recep- 
tion. 



33 



Sept. 18, ■Washington. — ..." I sent the detachment off 
Tuesday evening to rejoin the regiment, and must folloAV just as 
soon as I can. I have received all letters and parcels so far, and 
am most exceedingly obliged to all dear ones at home for them. 
. . . My regiment is perhaps seventy miles distant, — a long way 
in this behothered State. The great thing which I regret in stay- 
ing here in Washington on regiment business is, that my regiment 
may have been engaged in the fighting, and I not there, — a source 
of great trouble and regret to me. I shall go to them just as soon 
as I can." 

Sept. 19, Friday evening, "Washington. — " I shall start at nine, 
to-morrow morning, on my new steed, for my regiment. I have 
a heavy load of letters, blankets, &c. ; so that I shall hardly reach 
Frederick before Sunday night. I shall travel the broad road 
through Rockville, and right on to Frederick ; then hunt up my 
regiment, whose whereabouts I don't know. 

" I shall be very glad to get out of "Washington, as the air is 
very oppressive ; and I feel as if I was made of lead, — no life, no 
strength. I have been working very hard in packing the baggage 
of the regiment and executing my orders. 

" There are many sad rumors and stories about friends in the 
late battle, or series of battles ; * but I believe nothing till it is 
authenticated beyond all manner of doubt. Our colonel is wounded ; 
and I saw that Company I had had several wounded. I shall 

soon know what damage was done. Meanwhile, dear , keep 

up a good heart. I think things are beginning to turn for the 
better, and that we have beaten the strength of the Rebellion, and 
now bid fair to break its strength before long." 

Sept. 19, "Washington, Friday evening. — . . . " It has been a 
cause of deep regret to me, that I was not present with my regi- 
ment in any of these recent battles. I had fully counted on being 
with them when they first faced the enemy ; and would have cheer- 
fully foregone completing my mustering-in as Major, could I have 
been present when they came under fire. . . . There are sad 
reports here of the killed and wounded. . . . Col. "Wild is badly 
wounded in the left arm, and some familiar names of Company I f 
appear in the list as wounded. I hope to be with the regiment 
most earnestly before forty-eight hours shall elapse." 



* South Mountain and Antietara. t His own company. 

5 



34 



Sept. 21, Sunday uight, Frederick, Md. — " Here I am in Fre- 
derick, after two daye of unequalled tribulation, and wear and tear 
of the flesh. I liave actually ridden from Washington here, forty- 
two miles, since eleven, a.m., Saturday. ... I rode at a very 
dignified pace out of Georgetown and towards Rockville. ... I 
did not venture on a trot. I expected to bounce off as soon as the 
beast tried that gait ; and luckily there was a hill to climb for 
the first mile, and my luggage (nearly a hundred pounds) , besides 
my own weight : so that he, though strong and spunky, did not 
attempt any thing more than a walk. When I got some distance 
away, I touched him with the spur, and impressed on his imagina- 
tion that I wanted him to trot ; which he did. It is an awful pace, 
not for speed, but for the amount of bounce thereby extracted from 
the agonized human frame. I bore it as long as I could, then 
reduced him to a Avalk again ; and so we Avent, alternately from 
walk to trot, from trot to walk, till I had bumped through twenty- 
two miles, to a little cluster of houses called Gettysburg, where I 
stopped last night. 

..." I left there this morning, and have ridden for twenty- 
two miles through scenery which Avould delight mother's heart. 
The Blue Ridge looms up magnificently ; and to-morrow I must 
cross it, and pass two of those battle-fields which have rendered 
the last week famous, and which I have just missed. Col. Wild, 
by newspaper report, is badly wounded in the left arm ; and, I 
suppose, Lieut.-Col. Carruth is in command. I shall start for 
Sharpsburg (twenty-two miles distant) to-morrow morning, and 
rejoin my regiment. 

" I came into Frederick as the afternoon bells were ringing for 
church ; and, for the moment, Weston and Boston came back to 
me ; and I wished I could have been in old Massachusetts to enjoy 
a New-England sabbath. 

" I am safe and well, though much bumped. I had far rather 
and easier walked it." 

Sept. 22, Boonesborough, Md., Monday night. — . . . " I have 
to-day, while on my way from Frederick hither (sixteen miles), 
learned the fate of my regiment. We have lost, in two battles, 
nearly every commissioned officer, killed or wounded. The colo- 
nel's left arm is gone at the shoulder, and the lieutenant-colonel 
is shot through the neck. Capt. Bartlett is killed, and Capts. 
Andrews and Lathrop are the only ones fit for duty in the regi- 



35 

ment. I believe my men (I shall, till the lieutenaBt-colonel reco- 
vers, be in command of the regiment) are not more than ten miles 
distant ; and I hope to reach them to-morrow. 

" But you can tell how sad a thing this loss of officers and men 
(fifty-two killed, two hundred and five wounded) is ; one quarter- 
part of the regiment gone, taking out the sick, and necessary 
attendants. The thousand that marched up State Street, little 
more than four weeks since, now number hardly more than six 
hundred ; and I almost dread seeing the diminished ranks. 

" The range of mountains which we stormed is huge ; and the 
gorge through which I have been riding to-day, if its flanks Avere 
protected, could be held against any force. The national road 
runs through this pass in the mountains, and I have been travel- 
ling upon it all day. 

" The battle on Sunday, Sept. 14, was the most desperate one 
of the war. Over a hundred thousand men were on each side, 
with a line of battle nearly seven miles long, parallel with the 
ridge ; which finally we stormed, and beat the Confederates back. 

" My horse has carried me well. This is the third day, and I 
am sixty-two miles from Washington." 

Sept. 23, Tuesday morning. — . . . " I have seen a number of 
wounded officers, my friends ; and they all say that the regiment 
behaved nobly, stood their ground, and fired like men ; though, of 
course, they could not manoeuvre, having had no opportunity to 
drill. I stopped where Col. Wild was staying in Middletown, the 
other side of the mountains, eight miles back. He is getting on 
slowly ; but surely, I hope. He was cheery and thoughtful, and 
kind-hearted as ever. He insisted on my taking his armor-vest ; 
and Mrs. Wild fitted it for my use. I bade him good-by, and 
set out about four, p.m., for this place, and crossed the Sunday's 
battle mountain. The scenery was grand. Mother would delight 
in its beauty, and in the glimpses of distant prospect the openings 
of the gorges give. 

"All the way along, I passed regiments marching toward the 
front, and trains of empty wagons returning ; and reached this place 
about half-past six. 

" I hear that a Major Wright has been placed temporarily in 
command. I suppose, when I return, that I shall take his place 
at once. I shall do my best, and, when we go into battle, try to 
do my duty." ••• ^ 



36 



Sept. 26, Friday, three and a half miles from Sharpsburg. — 
..." I am well, and in command of the regiment ; which num- 
bers about five hundred men. 

..." I am not astonished to-day that my horse has broken 
down, and went limping along, as I expected would be the case, at 
the head of the regiment, — a sight for gods and men to snicker 
at. Infamous beast ! " 

Sept. 27, Saturday night, three miles from Sharpsburg, near 
the mouth of Antietam Creek, Md. — ..." On the edge of a 
ploughed field, the whole brigade close up in mass. We have no 
good place to drill. I go through with dress-parades, &c., with 
exceeding solemnity ; but the care and bother is no slight thing. 
I have to do the best I can ; and the questions asked are very 
numerous, and sometimes perplexing. 

" The men are suffering severely from want of tents, and loss 
of baggage ; and the very cold nights and heavy fogs, lasting till 
nine in the morning, are increasing our sick-list." 

Sunday, half-past eleven, a.m. — "But I think we shall begin 
to improve now, both in health and spirits, as the shock of the last 
battle wears off, and the salutary rules of discipline and cleanliness 
are enforced. 

" I am in Ferraro's brigade, Sturgis's division, Coxe's corps, 
and Buruside's army. ... I am working with all my might on 
the regiment ; and hope, in the course of the week, to get things 
agoing systematically. You can hardly conceive what uphill work 
it is. There are but three captains in the regiment, and every 
thing has to be organized. Morning reports, accounts of the sick 
and wounded ; bothers innumerable about forage, commissary 
stores, subsistence, &c. ; servants' attendance, regiments' wash- 
sinks, guards, funds, sutlers, discipline, drill, details for different 
duties, postage, losses in battle, and every thing else conceiv- 
able. 

"I did not think, when I left Boston and walked over to Lynn- 
field, that I should be in command of the remnant of the regiment 
in less than five weeks. ... It is hard work going on short- 
handed, as we are now, both in officers and men. We were 
hurried away from Washington, and took no baggage Avith us. 
Officers and men are suffering for want of clothing. I have the 
only tent in the regiment ; and it is a small A tent, seven by five, 
and tapering so rapidly as to materially reduce the space. A truss 



37 



of wheat-straw on one side of the tent is my bed ; ditto, on the 
other side, belonging to the adjutant, A four-legged pine table 
(set back against the tent-pole), a desk, one camp-stool, and my 
saddle, constitute all the furniture." 

Sept. 28, same camp, Sunday night. — . . . " I am beginning 
to arrange matters in the regiment ; and I can assure you all, the 
task is no light one. . . . The horse is quite lame. I sJiould have 
been disappointed, hadn't he done something of the kind. He is 
coughing and sneezing and tramping round and munching hay 
behind the tent at this moment. He eats most at night, — late sup- 
pers ; and then stands, looking dyspeptic and used up all day, not 
touching any thing. Didn't I tell you of Col. Wild's kind thought- 
fulness, in the midst and despite of his pain and misery at Mid- 
dletown, as I stopped to see him on my way to the regiment ? — how 
he insisted, when he, by chance, learned that I did not own or 
wear a steel vest, on my taking his ; and, as he sat in his chair, 
gave directions to Mrs. Wild and myself, with the sorrowful mo- 
tioning of that single arm, how we should arrange the steel-plate 
in the vest, — the one which he wore when he was wounded at 
South Mountain, Sunday. ... I am well and lively as I can be 
out of old Massachusetts ; which, I am becoming more and more 
convinced every day, is the only decent place, climate, soil, air, 
water, &c., &c., to live in, in the Union. . . . 

" You can have no notion of the dirt of the regiment. I passed 
a ukase this morning, which compelled a general scrubbing of 
clothes and persons. They had some excuse, as there is but one 
suit of clothes to each man ; and, when he washes his shirt, he 
has to go without till it dries. Ditto the beloved commander ! " 

Oct. 2, near the mouth of the Antietam. — . . . "I have a 
compliment from Charles G. Loring, who is lieutenant-colonel and 
inspector-general on Burnside's staff. He said the camp of my 
regiment was far the neatest in the brigade. ... I have seen and 
been introduced to Burnside. ... I have intense satisfaction in 
my position as commander, for two reasons, — it enables me to 
enforce cleanliness and prohibit swearing ; which last I have 
checked to a considerable extent, — to a degree Avhich I never 
thousrht I should be able to. 

" We are in camp, guarding the entrance to Maryland. . . . 
How soon we move, or how soon we fight, I do not know." 

He states that the regiment was for Pleasant Valley, six miles 



38 



from Antietam, by the river and railroad, near Harper's Ferry, 
between South-Mountain range and a little spur north-Avest of 
South Mountain. 

Oct. 3, Antietam. — "I have had a somewhat exciting day of 
it. Last night, as I was writing, about one, a.m., the General's 
orderly poked his nose into my tent, and delivered me an order to 
the effect that the President, Gens. McClellan, Burnside, &c., 
would review the corps to-day at eight, a.m. As soon as the tent- 
flaps closed, and the sound of the retreating footsteps died away 
in the distance on their road to the Fifty-first New York, I grasped 
' Army Regulations,' and refreshed my ideas on that important 
subject. I crammed the whole thing, — opening ranks, colors 
waving, swords poising, bands playing, &c., &c., — and then 
crawled upon my pallet of straw, and went to the land of Nod 
directly. That awful reveille started me into full life and vigor at 
half-past five ; and minus breakfast, at half-past seven, with bat- 
talion formed, but hoi'seless, I marched my six hundred on after 
the other regiments. We marched by the right flank into the 
field, and came on the right by files into line ; and then ordered 
arms, and waited for the other brigades to take their places. We 
kept our place till about ten ; wdien a salute from the guns an- 
nounced the President and stalf. They rode rapidly by, the 
President bareheaded, Burnside on his right, McClellan imme- 
diately behind, and a large cortege of horsemen following in front 
of and behind each line. As I stood eight paces in front of my 
regiment, the President passed within half a dozen feet of me ; 
but all the study of the elaborate review, the passing before the 
reviewing-olficer, the saluting, &c., &c., was entirely omitted. 
We stood like statues ; I with my long sabre sticking up above 
my shoulder, and my men at shoulder arms, unmoved, while Pre- 
sident, generals &c., &c., passed. We then closed ranks, and 
marched from the field." 

Oct. 12, Pleasant Valley. — He writes that the Lieut.-Col. 
had returned, and relieved him from the command of the regi- 
ment, to his great joy ; so that the Major (Col. Wild still being 
absent) became again acting Lieut.-Col. Of the march he 
writes : — 

" On Tuesday (Oct. 7), we broke camp at day-dawn, and soon 
after started towards Pleasant Valley, — a most beautiful intervale 
between two ridges of high hills. We marched south-east, and 



39 

through by-roads and mountain-paths, across the gap in Elk Moun- 
tain. The climb was a great one, and the view exceedingly 
beautiful. My horse was full of life and spirits, and evinced his 
light-heartedness by his light-heeledness ; and kicked the adjutant's 
horse, to the adjutant's intense wrath. I got along very well, ex- 
cept that he (the horse) required the whole road to himself. . . . 
C. W. Loring and Patrick Jackson called ; and I went over to see 
them at Burnside's head-quarters, which are about a mile distant, 
on the steep side of South Mountain, commanding a most superb 
view of the whole valley, and Loudon Heights, which overlook 
Harper's Ferry, and upon which they are cutting and burning off 
the woods to clear the way for the guns of the new defences." 

The inevitable horse still troubles him. " I wish," he says, 
" Uncle Sam would allow his majors to walk. The horse has 
passed the largest part of his valuable existence, since I became 
his unwilling owner, tied to a stake back of my tent, where I can 
distinctly hear every sneeze and cough, every motion, of the 
quadruped. . . . Nature never intended me for a horseman. I 
hate the beasts. ... For five weeks, our men 'have fought, 
marched, dug, slept, ate, and camped out in the same clothes,' 
having but one suit." He describes his great relief since the 
return of the Lieut.-Col. He is Avilllng to bear his own share, 
and more ; " but it is hard to do three men's work, and get 
blown up for six," and " to tread with the greatest caution, lest 
you come upon the military, gouty toes of some precise old tacti- 
cian, Avho roars in wrath at the slightest error in your course of 
proceeding. ... If I live to come back, it won't be for want 
of all sorts of training that I am not evenly developed, body and 

mind." 

Pleasant Valley, Sunday, Oct. 19. — During the previous week, 
he had been quite ill, and Avas so up to the end of the month, 
barely escaping a severe fever ; for fever he had, being entirely unfit 
for duty. Perhaps it was his iron constitution, which, under God, 
saved him in his peril. While lying in his tent, very ill, " I could 
clearly hear," he says, " all the signals and calls, and all the 
music ; in fact, all that, in the way of instrumental sounds, Uncle 
Samuel or private regimental pride had furnished to full thirty 
thousand men. I like music in moderation ; but fiincy the awful 
racket of half a dozen different bands, each playing in utter indif- 
ference to the other ! — some psalm-tunes, some polkas ; some one 



40 



thing, some another ; then throw in the calls of full two hundred 
bugles, tooted in every conceivable style, and an accompaniment 
of bass-drums ambitiously banging, unable to keep up, but sticking 
to it heroically. Such are the sounds of Pleasant Valley." The 
shelter-tents are described by him : a rather severe joke, by 
the way, to call them shelter-tents ; being o^yen at both ends. It 
was very cold in Pleasant Valley. The mist fills it " level with 
the tops of the skirting ridges, and buries our camp six hundred 
feet deep in fog ; and it takes the sun usually till noon to poke us 
out." The comfortable weather was passing away. " The men 
shiver, and appear blanketed and great-coated both at reveille and 
roll-call. No wonder. Almost every one would shiver to be com- 
pelled at half-past five, a.m., this season, to turn out upon the 
sidewalk, with ninety-seven other fellow-shiverers, and answer to 
his own name." 

Oct. 22, Wednesday morning. — The Major had visited his 
dear friend, the surgeon of the Twelfth. Pie ci'ossed the mountain, 
" and went through Sharpsburg, "v^here the battle was. The 
houses and churches are scarred with shot and shell. ... I dis- 
mounted, and walked into his quarters with him ; and comfortable 
enough he was. He had a fireplace in one corner of the tent, 
with a bright fire in it, looking most homelike, made by digging a 
trench from one corner of the tent, covering it with flat stones 
(which make the flue) , and putting two barrels on the end of it as a 
chimney ; . . . making a very comfortable fireplace. I intend 
making one at once in my tent ; for the weather now is very cold 
at night, and the days are very windy, blowing a gale, covering 
every thing with dust, and half taking the tent bodily off. . . . M. 
and I both agree that a soldier's life and campaigning are beastly ; 
and they are ! The officers suffer for food much more than 
the men. The latter have their regular rations ; but the officers 
are obliged to forage as best they may." 

Oct. 31, near Wheatland, Va., on road to Leesburg, about 
twelve miles south of the Potomac, he Avrites : — 

"The regiment left Pleasant Valley, Monday (Oct. 27), and 
marched to near Wheatland, — a blustering, cold, windy day." 
He suffered much from the want of thick under-clothing, his 
trunk having been rifled between Washington and his camp ; and, 
having to sleep all night on the ground, he was still in danger of 
the fever. The Lieut.-Col. was taken down with cold and fever, 



41 



and was left behind (Oct. 27) ; and the Major was again in com- 
mand. The regiment crossed the Potomac at Berlin, waded under 
the culvert of the canal in the water, and encamped in a field. He 
had to sleep all of the night of Monday on the ground, in the open 
air ; his blankets being on the wagon, and not coming up till the 
next day. He supped on hard bread and a piece of cheese one 
unprotected night. He shivered through the night, was sick, and 
was the next day on his back till his tent arrived. Oct. 29, 
marched southerly about five miles, and camped out in an open field. 
Oct. 30. — Ordered to march, at sunrise, five miles, to Wheat- 
land, — " the loveliest spot I have been in since I came out. Tents 
in the midst of a grove, on a little ridge, above a brook wdiich, 
skirts the ba.se : the trees protect us from the wind." There the 
encampment w^as a protected one. He was fortunate in getting 
some supplies ; and, the Lieut.-Col. having come up, he felt much 
relieved. "• We are making a short campaign ; and may see some 
fighting before the rainy season sets in, now about three weeks. 
There is a talk of our going to Newbern with Buruside ; but every 
thing is utterly uncertain." 

Same, Nov. 1. — He is writing on the ground, and then on a 
stump. On the 10th November, near Jefferson, he finishes the 
letter. " We have been marching incessantly since the first date ; 
had snow-storms ; slept tentless about the whole time ; had salt 
pork, raw ; hard bread, and coflfee sugarless, where we could get it, 
and thankful for it. Oh ! it's jolly campaigning in the winter ; 
turning into a potato-field, in a driving snow-storm, to sleep. . . . 
I think that Ave shall see a fight soon. The rebels are close to 
us ; and, while I write, the cannonading is incessant. I shall try 
to do my duty like a man, when the time comes. I hope that J. 
will not be drawn, or think of volunteering ; at least, at present. 
Nothing but the strictest sense of duty should induce a man to 
forego all the blessings of home. I appreciate them now as I 
never did before ; and I hope to show that appreciation, if I live 
to see all the dear ones at home once again." 

Nov. 10, JeflTerson, Va. — " Since leaving Pleasant Valley, we 
have been constantly marching, except the three days we staid 
near Wheatland. The weather has, in the main, been pleasant ; 
but we have had two snow-storms, keen and cold, as if direct from 
old Massachusetts, in one of which we were marched till nearly 
eleven, p.m., on a wrong road, very aptly described by one of the 



42 



men : ' It looked as if it had been gouged out by lightning.' In 
addition to the miseries of that ' triste noche,' after marching five 
miles in this blinding storm, and in these roads, which are mere 
ditches in the face of the country, used as beds for brooks, with 
rivulets crossing them, leaving puddles of water forty or fifty feet 
wide and two or three feet deep, we found that the Rappahannock 
and a broken bridge barred our progress. We started about 
four, P.M. ; and were stopped at about six, in the woods, as afore- 
said. There was nothing to be done but to about-face three 
thousand men, and march 'em back again. So we tramped back 
through the puddles, swamp, and brooks, till about half way back 
to our old camp-ground ; where, for some reason, they halted us 
three-quarters of an hour, right in the teeth of this nor' wester and 
driving snow. I sat on my horse till I was nearly frozen. We 
then marched about two miles farther ; and at eleven, p.m., halted 
opposite a patch of woods, and Avere told to camp. At once the 
men rushed among the trees with shouts ; rails were brought, sap- 
lings cut down, and roaring fires built. Field and staiF — to wit, 
the Lieut.-Col., Major, Adjutant, doctors, &c. — had a large fire 
kindled, and some pieces of shelter-tents put up to keep the wind 
off; scraped the snow-covered leaves away, and spread blankets; 
and, thankful for the warmth, went supperless to bed. That was 
the hardest day we have had : but I can assure you, that for two 
weeks, with an occasional interlude, our bed has been the nearest 
field ; our covei'let, the starry or cloudy heavens ; our food, salt 
pork, mostly raw, when Ave could get it ; hard tack, and coffee 
sugarless. I can eat raw salt pork with any Christian in the land ; 
and, when I am lucky enough to secure it, I carry a pound or so 
in my haversack with the hard bread : but, alas ! I can't get a 
fibre now." 

White Sulphur Springs, Nov. 13, Thursday. — " Last Tuesday, 
at one, a.m., we found ourselves in advance of the Avhole army ; 
and so far forward, that a retrograde of three or four miles was 
determined on. . . . Our position here is a strong one. We made 
a night-march from Jefferson, and expected to hear a row in our 
rear : but nothing disturbed the quiet of our march ; and, about 
daybreak, we reached this place. . . I am Avell, save a cold ; and 
as jolly as I can be in a mode of life which brings a man down 
to caring mostly for a good meal and a comfortable night's sleep. 
Of course, 1 do not put out of sight the heroism and bravery ex- 



43 



hibited, and the patriotism ; but the daily recurring thought is, 
How shall I get enough to eat ? and, I hope we shall have a good 
camp-ground to-night." 

Nov. 13, White Sulphur Springs. — "The climate is as cold 
here as in Massachusetts in November ; . . . making joxiv bed at 
dark in a field ; heaping up a fence-rail fire ; . . . then gathering 
leaves, putting your rubber blanket on them, and wrapping the 
woollen blanket about you, to wake in the morning with the frost- 
rime on the end of your nose, the fire burnt out to white ashes 
and black cinders ; fire rekindled, breakfast a facsimile of the 
supper, and then the order to pack up and march ; face washed by 
pouring a canteen of water on your hands, and fall into place ; and 
off" we go for another day's march, with the prospect of a fight at 
any instant ; the heavy thud of cannon in the distance. 

..." I have passed the last two Sundays, not quietly walking 
down Hancock Street to church ; nor listening for that second bell, 
the time for which my intellect never could grasp or retain. On 
Tuesday, Nov. 11, Ave were the foremost of all, and a little too 
much so for propriety. Our pickets had a fight within a mile and 
a half of our lines ; and the enemy were in force at Culpepper, 
barely ten miles oflf." It was rumored that the brigade got out to 
Jefierson without Burnside's being aware of it, and in pretty close 
proximity to the enemy ; and, being discovered by a party sent to 
reconnoitre, were ordered back to a safe place. 

..." Letters from home, telling of home-matters, are inde- 
scribably welcome, and are the only real pleasure I have. You 
all are ever with me in my thoughts." 

Nov. 13. — He was again (and the third time) in command of 
the regiment, much against his will ; "the Lieut.-Col., together 
with the adjutant, having been taken prisoner while eating dinner 
across the river at White Sulphur Springs." After leaving camp 
on Aug. 22, he was in command about half the time ; and now he 
remained in command till he fell. 

Nov. 15, Satm-day, he was, for the first time, under fire ; and 
says, Nov. 16, " I don't think I either showed or felt the least fear. 
The rebels shelled us ; and I had to march my regiment back 
under the fire of our battery over our heads, and of the rebels 
from a h^ll opposite, directly into us. A fragment of shell (so the 
men said ; I thought it was dirt) struck the road, and bounced 
right over my cap, about two feet above my head ; and shot and 



44 



shell struck and whizzed about in all directions. The lieutenant 
of the battery Avas killed, and an artillery-man had his arm torn 
to pieces, besides wounded men in other regiments than ours. 
We had one man badly wounded in the leg. I was reading your 
letter during the shelling, while my regiment was lying under 
cover, and when that bit of dirt or iron, I don't know which, 
bounced over my head. . . . Home-matters are what I care for 
in home-letters : they are indescribably pleasant. The beast is 
well and rampageous. I hate him." 

Nov. 17, near Warrenton Junction. — "I don't at all like to 
be compelled to do duty which I did not agree to ; and this duty 
was put on me with this warning : ' The Colonel wishes you to 
take command of the camp, as he will be absent for about two 
hours.' ... I occupied the house (where the Lieut.-Col. was 
taken) all Thursday night ; bitter cold ; frost ; no fires allowed, 
for fear of an attack. I walked about all night ; went the whole 
round of the pickets, and line of skirmishers ; and then to the regi- 
ment, Avhich was lying in the fields, . . . under the cold light of 
the moon, the frost whitening their blankets. 

" I hate old Rampageous as much as ever. He is a snorting, 
prancing, kicking, biting, uneasy nuisance, . . . and pulls up all 
the stakes driven to tie him to : he pulls up all, except large trees 
which have been growing for years." 

Nov. 19, Opposite Fredericksburg. — "After sleeping in the 
open air abovit two weeks, we have made a short return to a 
semi-civilized life ; that is, we dwell in tents. These are shelter- 
tents, so called in delightful sarcastic phrase ; reminding you 
of a dog-kennel. Into that you creep on all-fours, and lie with 
both ends sticking out, in case you are, as I am, six feet one. 

" I am perfectly hardened, and used to waking up at midnight 
to hear the grim voice of the Qeneral's orderly. . . . Let me give 
you a picture, if possible, of our waking and march this morning. 
We (that is, Walcott and myself) were sitting before my head- 
quarters' fire, when the orderly came and said, ' Start at six, 
Major. Regiment will fall in punctually ; as you lead to-day, Gen- 
eral says.' So off I posted to my tent. ... I took my sleep 
(what I could get) on a bundle of hay in my tent, and was duly 
aroused by the reveille at four. I packed my blankets ; s^w to the 
proper saddling of old Rampageous, got him plenty of corn, and 
had my tents struck in the midst of dire confusion. Our baggage- 



45 



wao-ons were driving round in very lively style ; the six mules to each 
other frequently and loudly expressing, in their sweet, musical way, 
their delight at waking and working so early in the morning. The 
mist was thicker than ever, and no sign yet of the dull, gray dawn. 
The men were drying tents by the different camp-fires, cooking 
their breakfasts, fixing their knapsacks, and getting ready generally. 
The mist and smoke, the calls and shouts of three thousand men, 
the noise of our awful brigade-band (which had waked up also), 
made a row Avhich is hard to describe. I ate my breakfast stand- 
ing, — plateless, knifeless, forkless, and spoonless ; keeping guard 
over old Rampageous, with a tin dipper of coffee in one hand, and 
a sandwich of hard tack and beefsteak in the other, to prevent 
one especially lively wagon and its six mules from cultivating an 
improperly close acquaintance with him, which would result in 
bites, kicks, and squeals, to the great detriment of my saddle and 
blankets. 

" The wagon finally Avas loaded, and drove off. I finished 
my breakfast. Still so dark, Avet, and foggy, that I could not see 
half the length of the regiment. I mounted old Rampageous, and 
gave my adjutant and sergeant-major orders to form the regiment 
at once ; and as I sat on my horse, in front of the line, the sight 
was a picturesque one, — the long, dark line of men slowly form- 
ing, and becoming visible by the flickering blaze of the forest, in 
front of which they stood ; the glitter of the guns as they shone 
for an instant ; the quiet, sharp orders of the officers, followed by 
the prompt movement of the dark and compact masses ; and, add 
to all, the faint, wet light of morning had begun to creep up on the 
edge of the horizon. I gave the ' Attention, battalion ! shoulder 
arms ! right face ! forward, march ! ' and we ivere off this time, to 
halt just short of Fredericksburg, on the western, or rather northern, 
side of the river, . . . table-land, . . . and overlooking the city at 
a distance of two miles. . . . We have marched south along the 
base of the Blue Ridge ; then turned to the left, and marched 
here. We have been on the move for three weeks and two days 
quite steadily. We left Pleasant Valley ; marched along the 
Potomac to Berlin ; crossed, camped ; then south through Lovetts- 
ville, &c., to Amesville, Jefferson, White Sulphur Springs, Fay- 
etteville, Warrenton Junction ; then straight here, — to wit, a mile 
from Falmouth, and near Fredericksburg. We have zigzagged 
over the country (particularly in our marches near the Blue 



46 



Ridge) beyond all description ; but now we are promised a two- 
days' halt. 

..." I wish you, dear , the pleasantest Thanksgiving you 

have ever had. I shall, God willing, remember you all most lov- 
ingly on that day ; and I know you will not forget me. . . . 
Burnside means to push for Richmond ; in what way, I am sure 
I can't tell or conjecture : but we shall have some very hard 
fighting, I expect, within the next four weeks." 

Nov. 28, camp oft' Fredericksburg. — " We had a quiet 
Thanksgiving, without any extra dinner, except an old goose and 
four very diminutively small chickens. I thought of home as I sat 
at the head of the mess-table (made, by the way, of cracker-boxes, 
and clothless), and wished that I could fill my place, for a short 
time at least, at home. But I have the consolation of knowing, 
that, as I came hecause I ought, that same ' ought' will keep me up 
fairly to tJie marl\ 

" I have, at last, received letters here on the infamous soil of 
Virginia. 

"We have a large number of men here, — how large, I don't 
know ; but, I suppose, about seventy thousand.* I wish there 
were two hundred thousand men ; and then — Richmond." 

He is just for brigade drill ; never having drilled his regiment 
with brigade. 

Dec. 2, same camp. — "I hardly think I can make you a fit- 
ting return for all your affectionate and Cliristian care of me, or 
all your patient and loving waiting during my slow struggle to 
work my way in life and gain a place among men. I hope, 
if my life is spared to return, and with increased knowledge of 
men, "vVith an experience in rough, practical life of the greatest 
value to me, and habit of prompt decision, with the atti'itiou of 
a life as open and public as my former one was secluded and fastidi- 
ous, to make my fortunes more rapidly than earlier years fore- 
boded." 

He says that he is in Sumner's corps. Hooker in the centre 
(both Massacluisetts men), and Franklin on the left. "How we 
are to get to Richmond," he says, " is the pi'oblem. If we go 
straight by land, the rebels have the railroad direct from Rich- 
mond to Fredericksburg, which they will use to retreat on, and 



Perhaps one hundred and ten thousand, as by a subsequent letter. 



47 

tear up as fast as we press them back, — leaving us to rebuild and 
follow as best we can over roads which are like brooks of 
mud, floating the corduroy logs in a yellow stream (fifty miles 
of such, with three or foiu- good-sized rivers to fight our way 
across, lie between us and Kichmond) ; while the route by sea will 
avoid many of these difficulties, render transportation compara- 
tively easy and safe, land us nearer the city, and not compel us 
to guard an ever-increasing length of line of communication." 

O CD *ZJ 

He had always been entirely silent on the comparative merits of 
the generals ; and now, being particularly requested by letter, 
states his opinion. 

Dec. 5, camp near the river, opposite the lower part of Fre- 
dericksburg. His regiment just ordered " to the extreme left of 
the army, to support Battery B of four pieces, second battalion. 
New- York artillery, stationed on a range of hills overlooking the 
river ; and the outermost part of the army in this direction, I 
believe." 

Dec. 6 and 7. — Left flank of army on hills overlooking Frede- 
ricksburg. He states that wagons with supplies have arrived in 
camp ; having been from eight, a.m., till four, p.m., in going three 
miles. " It was a magnificent night" (Saturday, Dec. 6). " The 
full moon lighted the snow, and the sparkle of the enemy's fires on 
the hills across the river could be distinctly seen." . . . The Major 
commanded, ranking the captain of the battery. He is on the ex- 
treme left ; " unless they have removed some division down on the 
other side of the woods, which, like a bow, sweep round the rear 
of our camp." 

Dec. 7, opposite the lower suburbs of Fredericksburg. — "Night ; 
quiet till one, a.m. ; then I stump over the crusty snow in com- 
pany with the officer of the day, whose duties also cover the night, 
unless the rebels cross, and stir up my camp." He then gives a 
vivid description of the scene on that bright moonlight night, and 
the rebel camp-fires. " It is freezing in true New-England style, 
and the weather is as genuine an importation from Massachusetts 
as is our regiment. . . . My tramp to-night is to visit my pickets 
and guards. I have guards stationed at each of the guns, Avhich 
peer watchfully through the embrasures of the half-moon in 
which they are placed. A cold time the sentinels have of it, 
and the greatest vigilance is needful ; for a rat-tail file and a tap 
with a hammer would render useless in a moment a superb piece 



48 

of ordnance. I don't object to the trip a bit, thougli it will take 
me nearly two hours ; but for my shoes, which are in sympathy 
with the shoes of more than two-thirds of the regiment. The 
soles of both have given Avay ; and the venerated Major's toes are 

out, as I drew in my letter to I shall get along to-night by 

Avinding them round with cord (the shoes, not toes) ; and I hope 
they will stand the poking through the bushes after my pickets. 

" Gen. W. and aide called on me to-day ; and I treated them to 
dinner, through sending out a special forager. ... I had secured 
a goose, . . . two small ducks, and had a pudding made. . . . 
But, alas ! there are drawbacks on all human felicity. The 
mess-tent was so cold, and the pine-logs throughout the camp so 
obstinately refused to burn, that my tent was nearly at the freezing 
point : and, when I rose to carve the goose, I was obliged to grasp 
the carving knife and fork in my fist ; and after making sundry 
vain attempts to hit the joints of the wretched bird, and growing 
desperate at the consciousness that seven pairs of hungry eyes 
were fixed on my struggles, I gracefully appealed to the general, 
Avho, in his long buckskin gauntlets, succeeded in dismembering 
the fowl," &c. ..." Now I have a good fire in front of my tent. 
Would that I had had it when the shivering general and his shi- 
vering aide sat on my bed, and shook in chilly unison ! " 

He doubts about the next movement, but thinks a force will be 
detached, and sent to Richmond. " I am very much obliged for 
your letters. When I get a goodly stock of letters from the mail- 
bag, I feel that I am still fast in home affections and remembrance ; 
and the memory is one of the greatest enjoyments that I have." 

His last letter, a very hurried and brief one in pencil, 
written on " Friday, Dec. 12," was affectionate as usual. 
Amongst other things, he says, — 

" We shelled and half burnt Fredericksburg yesterday. My 
regiment and brigade was ordered to be in readiness, and was 
marched and countermarched ; as I will tell at some future 
time, when I have pen, ink, and opportunity. . . . The whole of 
Franklin's grand corps is passing in the rear of our camp, cross- 
ing the river on the left, — artillery, infantry, and cavalry by the 
thousands. My men are pretty much used up by want of shoes. 



49 



and consequent colds. I had by actual count, yesterday, a force 
of only three hundred and fifty-three men and seventeen officers 
with which to go into battle. I hope to write in a few days more 
fully." 

This was either the last letter he wrote, or else the next 
to the last. It bears the same date with the last letter to 
his wife. On Saturday, before he fell, his thought must 
have been upon the impending battle, which proved a day 
of awful and useless sacrifice, — a holocaust indeed. 

As has been seen, he was appointed a captain on the 
thirteenth day of August last ; left Boston with his regi- 
ment on the twenty-second of the same month ; and, on the 
twenty-seventh, was appointed a major. When it is remem- 
bered that he was in actual command of the regiment, 
without colonel or lieutenant-colonel, and with but three 
captains, just about half the time after he left Boston, 
encumbered with the new, numerous, and sometimes very 
perplexing, duties of the colonelcy ; that he was ill for a 
fortnight from fatigue and exposure ; that he had written 
about one hundred letters, many of them very long ones, 
abounding in pen-and-ink sketches, — he would seem to 
have shown great industry and perseverance in his one 
hundred and thirteen days' absence from home. The regi- 
ment was new and inexperienced ; and, with unusual speed, 
— three weeks and a half from the time of breaking up 
camp at Lynnfield, — they were in the midst of the severe 
battle at South Mountain, where they fought like veterans, 
and began to earn there historical record, enlarged at Antie- 
tam, and consummated at Fredericksburg. 

The sad duty remains of speaking of the last hours of 
the Christian soldier; of the man (as truly and tersely 
described by a friend) " who never raised his arm or his 

7 



50 



voice in anger or pride ; the self-controlled, liigbly moral, 
and exemplary man, whom even the follies of youth never 
seemed to touch ; " — and of adding some of the tributes 
paid to his memory. 

On Sunday evening, Dec. 14, a telegram was received 
from Falmouth, Va., without date, saying that " Major 
Willard died this afternoon, at 1.30; "and soon after, in the 
same evening, a second telegram was received, also without 
date, that " Major Willard lies in Fredericksburg, wounded, 
shot through the body," and containing a request to his 
wife " to come immediately." Nothing further was heard 
until Monday evening, Dec. 15. Meanwhile the family had 
been in an agony of suspense, buoyed up with hope against 
hope. In the confusion of the day, there might have been 
a mistake in the first telegram received ; the son, husband, 
and brother might be, and perhaps was, living. Several 
plausible theories were suggested ; but Monday evening 
(when several members of the family, who had left Boston 
in the morning, were on their way to Washington) brought 
with it a confirmation of the intelligence. 

The principal circumstances in relation to the part he 
was taking in the bloody fight at Fredericksburg, also the 
narrative of his fall and death, are contained in the follow- 
ing letter from Capt. Lathrop, who was acting major in the 
the battle : — 

Camp neak Fkedericksburg, Va., 
Dec. 18, 1862. 
My dear Mrs. Willard, — 

In compliance with the request of your late husband, it be- 
comes my sad duty to write you the particulars of that event, 
which, I can assure you, is deplored by the regiment and by my- 
self, no less than by bis friends and relations at home. We crossed 
the river on Friday, Dec. 12. That night, we camped in one 
of the streets of Fredericksburg ; and, the next day, took part in 



51 

the battle. The enemy were posted on a range of hills half a mile 
outside of the town, behind earthworks. The position was one of 
great strength, and was defended by artillery and infantry. To 
reach it, we had to pass across an open plain, which was fully 
exposed to a murderous lire from the enemy's batteries. Antietam 
was nothmg to if. We advanced in line of battle ; your gallant 
husband at the head of the regiment, cheering, and encouraging it 
on. When about half-way across, he was struck by a Minie-ball 
in the body, and fell prostrate. He soon arose, and was being 
supported to the rear by one man when I saw him. I immedi- 
ately went to his assistance, and asked him if he was hit. He 
said he was, and wished I would help him off the field. I found 
he was able to walk but a few steps further. To attempt to carry 
him off the field the way we came on, would have exposed him to 
another shot. I looked around for a way of escape, and saw a 
gully running back to the town. To this we carried him ; and I 
sent a man after a stretcher, while I remained with him. "While 
here, we were several times covered with dirt, caused by the ene- 
my's shells striking in close proximity to us. I examined the 
wound, and did what I could to stanch the blood. After sending 
the tenderest message to the loved ones at home, and in submis- 
sion saying, '■'■BuVGod's will he done" he added, '■'Tell them I tried 
to do my duty to my country and to the regiment." We remained 
in this gully an hour, and still no stretcher appeared. The firing 
seemed to be nearer, and stragglers going to the rear said the ene- 
my were driving us. To attempt to carry your husband on a 
blanket would expose him to great pain ; to remain would endan- 
ger our freedom. I decided to adopt the former alternative, and 
started. Several shot went by us ; but none struck our party. 
Before we reached the town, we met two men of the New-Hamp- 
shire Eleventh with a stretcher, and, placing your husband on it, 
took him to a hospital. A surgeon looked at his wound, and told me 
to bathe it in cold water ; and this Avas all the dressing I could get 
any of them to put upon it. I remained with him all night, doing 
what I could to alleviate his sufferings. We were in a room with 
thirty others, who had wounds of every description. The night 
was a terrible one. Groans and cries of agony prevented any rest ; 
but your husband bore his sufferings with the utmost patience. No 
cry or complaint escaped his lips. With the utmost Christian re- 



52 



signfition, he endured it all. In the morning, the ball was extracted. 
At nine, I left him for a few hours to hunt up the regiment, and 
report what had happened. Before I returned, a messenger came, 
and reported that the Major was gone. I immediately went to the 
hospital, and had the body taken to camp and sent to Washington. 
. . . The sufferings of your husband, before his death, were 
undoubtedly great ; but he bore them like a man. Pie was fully 
conscious, when I left him ; and I am informed he retained his 
faculties to the end. ... In your husband's decease, I have 
lost a dear and valued friend. I first became acquainted with 
him in 1854, and have ever since esteemed him highly. The 
kindly feelings which existed between us, as officers of the same 
company, did not cease when he left it for the position of Major 
of the regiment. I know that he entered into this war from no 
feelings of martial pride, or from a desire to win renown. A mili- 
tary life was distasteful to him ; but he felt it his duty to be here, 
and he remained. He often spoke to me of the peaceful and 
happy life which he trusted was in store for him when the war 
should be over. Deeply sympathizing with you in your afflic- 
tion, 

I remain truly yours, 

John Lathrop. 



The regiment left the city of Fredericksburg at half 
past eleven o'clock on Saturday morning, and was advan- 
cing against the rebels ; the Major being in front of color- 
company B, when he led the regiment to the charge. 
Capt. Lathrop was in the rear, acting as major. Efforts 
were made to persuade the Major to order the charge and 
take his station in the rear, but without success. Waving his 
sword, and leading on the charge, he was seen to fall ; * and 
the startling cry went forth, that the " Major was down ! " 
A lad in the regiment, by the name of Krill, seems to have 



* He was seeu by the commander of the next regiment, — the Twenty-first Mas- 
sachusetts, — very much in advance of his men. 



53 

been the first to go to his assistance, having seen him at the 
moment he was shot ; but he was not strong enough to lift 
him. Private Estes then started to his support, and was 
helping him through the lines to the rear, when Capt. La- 
throp came up on the other side, and the two attempted 
to take him from the field. They had proceeded but a rod 
or two, when the Major said, " You must let me lie down : I 
can't go any further." 

They laid him down, put him in a blanket, and endea- 
vored to place him out of the range of the fire ; but, the 
rebels enfilading the road, they removed him just below 
the bank. Here there was a shelter from the front fire ; and, 
by a little bend in the road, from the cross-fire also. Capt. 
Lathrop lay down by his side. Here it was, probably, that 
he requested the captain to give the message to the loved 
ones at home, as mentioned in the captain's letter ; and also 
expressed his desire to be buried at Mount Auburn. 

Within a half hour or hour, two soldiers appeared with 
a stretcher, and bore him upon it to the hospital of a 
Connecticut regiment. He was in pain, but never moaned 
or exclaimed. 

Towards night, the surgeon gave him whiskey and mor- 
phine ; but he doubted whether to take it, saying that he 
had never drunk whiskey : however, he was induced to con- 
sent, and soon became easier. He was thirsty, and wanted 
water, which was brought ; but from self-control, says the 
captain, he would not drink, but only rinsed his mouth. 

He inquired whether his horse had been found, and was 
told that it had not been.* 



* The horse had been tied in Fredericksburg. It was lost during the battle, to- 
gether with the blanliets and haversack. Probably they were stolen. Inquiries 
were instituted, but with no success. 



54 



About nine o'clock on Sunday morning, Capt. Lathrop 
was obliged to be absent to attend to the regiment, now 
reduced to less than one-third of its original number. He 
left the Major calm, quiet, and apparently comfortable ; and 
did not apprehend any early change in his condition. Estes 
and another private remained in attendance. Acting Lieut- 
Col. Pratt came in, and found the Major cheerful, affection- 
ate, and resigned ; and, on inquiring how he could serve 
him, was requested to telegraph to his wife to come imme- 
diately. He then left to execute his mission, thinking the 
Major could not live many hours : but it seems doubtful 
whether the latter, though knowing that he Avas fatally 
wounded, thought himself so near his end ; for he had had 
no warning from any former experience of severe illness. 

The privates continued in attendance through the clos- 
ing scene, save that Estes was absent some fifteen minutes, 
between one and two o'clock, to take some food. The Ma- 
jor had been induced to go to sleep ; and he was asleep, 
lying on his left side, when Estes returned. A motion of 
the right shoulder was noticed : presently his lips were 
seen to move ; his eyes were open, and rolled up. Estes felt 
his pulse, and found none ; * he felt his hands, they were 
cold. He called the surgeon, who confirmed his fears that 
all was over. The Major had entered into his rest. 

This brief narrative contains substantially the little, but 
all, that has thus far been gathered, of the last hours and 
death of Major Sidney Willard. 

As he lay in the repose of death in the home of his 
youth, his expression was natural and life-like, as of one 
who had returned wearied with conflict, and had sunk into 
a calm but thoughtful and semi-conscious slumber. 



* Capt. Lathrop said he had no pulse after he was wounded. 



55 

Religious services were held at the late residence of the 
deceased ; but the family yielded to the urgency of respected 
friends, who said there was a- strong desire and expectation 
of a more public demonstration. The West Church was 
crowded at his public obsequies, and they were of a most 
impressive character. The mihtary escort detailed by the 
Governor was composed of the Independent Company of 
Cadets, of which, for several years, he had been a member; 
and of the Washington Home Guard of Cambridge, which 
he had so carefully instructed. Nor were the Weston men, 
the yeomanry of the land, who had been trained by him, — 
those of them who had not gone to the war, — wanting in 
their attendance, and tribute of respect. 

Omitting the numerous and private testimonials to his 
memory, and those published in the journals of the day, it 
will not bp inappropriate to add, as of a more public charac- 
ter, the resolutions of the Cadets, those of the Home Guard, 
and those of his classmates of Harvard College. 



Besolutions passed hy the Independent Company of Cadets, 

Dec. 20, 1862. 

"Whereas the Independent Company of Cadets have heard 
with feelings of sorrow of the death of their fellow-member, 
Major Sidney Willard, of the Thirty-fifth Eegiment of Massachu- 
setts Volunteers, by wounds received in battle ; and — 

" Whereas we have experienced', by his decease, another loss 
to the many we have already sustained during the present Eebel- 
lion ; therefore — 

" Resolved, That while Ave mourn his loss, and offer our sincere 
sympathies to his bereaved widow (thus suddenly called upon to 
part with the object of her affections) and to his family and surviv- 



56 



ing relatives, we remember the undaunted courage and patriot- 
ism which marked his short career, and the bravery which 
distino-uished him in the fiekl of battle in fighting against the ene- 
mies of our Constitution and civil liberties. 

'•''Resolved^ That the strong attachment he always evinced for 
this corps during his membership ; his lively interest in its welfare ; 
his firm, unswerving integrity as a man and a citizen ; with the 
devotion to the cause for which he went forth to do battle, under 
circumstances of no ordinary nature, sundering the sacred ties 
wliicli bind a man to those most beloved by him, — will endear his 
memory to us, and cause his name to be mentioned with feelings 
of admiration and respect by his former comrades, while his death 
will add another name to the roll of departed heroes who have 
gone forth from our ranks to uphold our national honor and 
integrity. 

" Besolved, That these resolutions be entered upon the records 
of this corps, and a copy sent to the widow of the late Major Wil- 
lard, with the tender of our respectful sympathies in her great 
bereavement. " Chas. E. Stevens, Clerk I. C. C." 



At a meeting of the Washington Home Guard of Cam- 
bridge, held at their armory, Dec. 15, the following reso- 
lutions, presented by the Hon. Emory Washburn, were 
unanimously adopted, and communicated to the family of 
Major Willard, together with an offer of the services of the 
company as a funeral escort : — 

" Eesolved, That the Washington Home Guard have heard 
with deep sorrow and regret of the death of Major Sidney Wil- 
lard, of the Thirty-fifth Regiment of Massachusetts Volunteers, 
Avho fell in the battle of Fredericksburg, on the 13th inst. In jus- 
tice to the memory of one who was endeared to them by many 
considerations, they cannot withhold this expression of their high 
appreciation of his character as a soldier, as a gentleman, and as a 
friend. They will ever cherish a remembrance of him as their 
much-esteemed commander and military instructor, and will often 
hereafter recall the pleasant associations which characterized his 
relations as one of their number. Falling as he has done, in the 



57 



vigor of his manhood, in a cause to which he had devoted his 
noblest energies, his country has to lament the loss of a brave 
officer, the State a citizen of high promise and unswerving integrity, 
his friends a true-hearted man, and his family one endeared to 
them by the ties of the warmest alFection, 

" The Home Guard would tender to the family of their late 
associate their most cordial sympathy, while they place upon their 
record this testimonial of their esteem. 

" W. P. Atkinson, Clerh W. H. G." 



Resolutions passed at a Meeting of the Class of 1852, held in Boston, 

Dec. 17, 1862. 

" Resolved, That we have heard Avith deep sorrow of the 
death of our class-mate. Major Sidney Willard. 

" But it is consoling to remember, that he died nobly in battle 
for his country, at the head of his regiment ; and that he has 
added fresh honor to a name distinguished in the annals of New 
England and of our college in more than one generation. 

" He was the first of our number to lay down his life for the 
country ; and his name shall be treasured up in our hearts with 
everlasting respect and honor. He was one with whose memory 
nothing which is not truthful and pure and upright and courageous 
and honorable can ever be associated. 

" We remember that our friend entered the service from a con- 
viction of duty and an honorable sensitiveness, — countervailing 
the advice of friends, — which led him to think that one, so well 
qualified as he, ought not to be absent froni the field ; and we 
remember also the costly sacrifice which he then made of domes- 
tic happiness, of business prospects, and of strong natural tastes 
and predilections for peaceful pursuits. 

"Many of us mourn the loss of a personal friend, — generous, 
incorruptible, steadfast, pure, of a strong and Avidely cultivated 
mind, and a heart singularly affectionate, and sensitive to every 
sentiment of honor. " 

8 



58 



" Resolved, That a copy of these resolutions be transmitted to 
the family of Major Willard, with the expression of our deepest 
and most respectful sympathy. 

" S. M. QuiNCY, Chairman. 
Henry Gr. Denny, Secretary" 



(( 



•«IN MEMORY OF MAJOR SIDNEY WILLARD. 

Called from the din of battle and the rush of earthly strife 

To the peace past understanding of a new and endless life, 

No long and wasting sickness wore away that noble form, 

Trained in temperance and virtue to be the worthy home 

Of the soul that dwelt within it, till the sudden summons came 

To crown the patriot hero with the dying martyr's fame ; 

To lead the heart, that here was blessed, by perfect, changeless love, 

To its endless consummation in the Father's home above. 

As we mourn the life thus ended in all the pride of youth. 

Let us strive to make ours like it in manliness and truth : 

And though 'tis hard for us to see the brightest and the best 

Thus taken, when so many are longing for their rest ; 

Yet we trust the perfect wisdom which we cannot understand. 

And bow in meek submission 'neath the loving, chastening hand." 



